


Flashback!

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: Difficult topic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:38:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: They were feeling more and more like brothers, family as the time went on, this place feeling more and more like a home.  Then a series of minor events, none of them important in and of themselves, lead to old personal demons arising from the darkness, and ugly and unsettling truths being revealed from each of their pasts.  Masks are ripped away, and  as they look at each other with new understanding, will those harsh revelations break their bonds of brotherhood or strengthen them?  Goniff, in particular, wonders whether his dream of finding a place of his own, a place where he is accepted just for himself has just crashed into ruins.  After all, that's why he created, wore all those masks in the first place, just to prevent something like this happening; he always knew nothing good would come from letting anyone see him without that last layer of protection.





	Flashback!

**Author's Note:**

> Note: the term 'lucid dreaming' was coined by Dutch author and psychiatrist Frederik van Eeden in his 1913 article, "A Study of Dreams".

"Wow, the corner is loose on that netting. Bet I can squeeze in there. Yep, I can. Cool! Wonder what's down there? Yech! Nasty, and it's gotten me all grimy! Won't do that again! Gotta go!" With a flick of his tail the curious red squirrel was gone, pulling the netting even further askew. The visiting jackdaws furthered the job, and by fall, the metal net was hanging to one side, the top of the chimney open to the wind and elements.

That was the start of it. It was only one of the many chimneys at The Mansion, but it was one that wasn't so easily seen from the ground so no one noticed the screening was gone, so no one repaired it before the storm that dropped twigs and leaves on top of the old jackdaw nests inside. Once the leaves started to come down in earnest, there was a total blockage, and when the fire was lit to warm the room during that cold snap, it wasn't long before smoke was billowing out into the room and hallway, and throughout the house, and fire and smoke out the top over the roof. It took all of them working together, the team and the guards to put it out before the old roof caught as well. It wasn't easy working on that sloping roof, it wasn't even easy getting up there, and not everyone could work on heights, but it was out. Everyone down below was wet from the reflected water, everyone who'd worked up top was wet, filthy and coughing from inhaling smoke. Most had small burns from flying sparks, or from the hot wood and metal touching their skin as they worked. All were chilled to the bone. Those working indoors were dirty and coughing as well, and the Mansion was a smokey mess. 

A quick phone call to the man in charge of such Residences, those leased to the military forces, determined that til the inspectors could arrive, the team had to leave. The Base had no place for them, they were already housing the guards and that filled their available bunks, and Garrison was just as glad of that; his crew and the regular soldiers sometimes didn't mix well.

Unfortunately there wasn't much else in the way of ready accommodations, and the Sergeant Major had been ordered to keep them together, and outside of moving them to London, which the guys were loudly and firmly in favor of but the military was not, the only place he could come up with in the middle of the night was the old packing warehouse, beyond the orchards. It was old and rundown, but it was empty except for some stacks of old crates and such, so they picked up their bedding and a change of clothes, both smelling as much like smoke as they did, and trudged their way through the old apple trees to look at their new home away from home. 

"Bloody 'ell! Ain't this welcoming, now!" Goniff said, looking around with a frown, something about this place making him more than a little uncomfortable. Well, in addition to the fact that it was cold, bare and dark.

"I know, I'll try to do better for us tomorrow. For now, just get settled and lets try for a few hours sleep. We've slept in worse places, you know."

Garrison had been offered a place in Officers Quarters on Base, but even more than mixing his men with soldiers, he disliked the idea of leaving them to this place while HE slept in relative comfort. And the Base Commander had squawked like a plucked chicken when Garrison suggested his men stay with him in officer-land. Well, of course, couldn't have that, could you?!! Of course, he was a little uneasy leaving his guys alone at the best of times.

The man at Residences had been very suspicious when Garrison talked to him, asking what the guys had done to start the fire. Explaining that they hadn't done a damned thing, other than light a fire in a fireplace that supposedly was built for that purpose had left him in a temper. And it had been Garrison's room, not theirs, and he'd been the one to do the lighting! Yeah, the guys could get up to more trouble than he could ever have imagined, more than the military would ever know about if he had his way, but they hadn't tried to burn the house down!

The Sergeant Major had gone back to the Mansion, he'd bunk down in the kitchen, not comfortably, but security said the place had to be guarded, which made sense with everything in the office and in the map room, not to mention the art and antiques in the locked side, so he'd guard it. He figured Garrison could deal with the men; if he could deal with them on a mission, surely he could deal with them in an empty warehouse on the Mansion grounds. 

Moving over the very large, mostly bare room, they tried to pick the best spot. The raised metal fittings in the floor, probably used to tie down heavy equipment, proved a bit of a challenge; they were hard to spot in the gloom, even with the battery lamps, and they were easy to stumble over and would surely be felt if a thin cot mattress was placed on top of one. The crates were wobbly after being left to rot, as they found after Actor managed to brush against one stack that came crashing down. The resulting explosion of noise, spray of dust and spider webs and probably worse that landed on and around them, and the remaining heap and scatter of wood shards was rather impressive, but highly unwelcome. It certainly didn't help ease the tension much.

Garrison noticed that Goniff looked like he was about to jump out of his skin, and even Chief had an uneasy frown on his face. The low loft would logically have been a better place for sleeping, up off the cold concrete, but Garrison gave one look at the rotting ladder and the gaps above in the stained wood planks that looked suspiciously as if they were rotting away too, and decided that wasn't a good idea. He had an unpleasant vision of the whole thing collapsing under them in the middle of the night, or just as bad, collapsing on top of them, so he insisted they pick a place where the loft WASN'T overhanging. His optimistic statement that they'd slept in worse places, well, that might come back to haunt him. 

The smell of apples still held in this old building, not unpleasant in itself, but pervasive enough it took some getting used to, and they'd probably be heartily sick of it by morning. There was a pile of something against one end wall that wasn't really identifiable, possible a pile of old tarps or basket covers, but smelled of rot, and no one wanted to disturb it and let the smell spread, or find out something was living under there. Some of the walls had damp mold growing on them, which only added to the odd smell surrounding them, their bedding having introduced the heavy dank of smoke, and to be honest, after the evening they'd had, with all the smoke and water and ash and old tar from the roof tiles and exertion, they added a bit to the pungency of the room themselves. 

They picked the corner that seemed to have, if not more going for it, at least the fewest drawbacks. They spread out the mattresses, having to adjust and readjust for the metal fastenings in the floor, trying to keep out of each other's way, avoid the crates, the cold touch of the walls; it wasn't easy, and they were scattered rather haphazardly on the floor by the time they got it straightened out. They did settle down, grumbling to themselves, but sleep was hard to come by. They were still charged from all the excitement, by the coffee handed around by the Sergeant Major; they were grimy and itchy, and more than one had a few battle wounds from the experience, just scrapes and some small burns from the sparks, a few bruises, but enough to certainly add to their discomfort; the thin mattresses didn't do much to soften the pitted concrete floor or to keep the cold from seeping upwards, and the blankets didn't do nearly as good a job out here as they had in the Dorm. 

Eventually, though, they all were breathing deeply, and the large room echoed with a variety of night noises, from Goniff's sotto voce mutterings to the deeper grunts by Chief as he turned from side to side and back again in a seemingly endless pattern, the surprisingly melodic snores from Actor and Casino. Garrison wondered how they managed to NOT make these noises when they were on a mission but back here, it was a regular cacophony. Of course, he wasn't used to sleeping in the same room with all of them back here, especially a big room that echo'd every sound. When he slept in that side bedroom at the Mansion he slept alone; when he wasn't alone he was in that small bedroom down at the Cottage. And he'd never found those soft mutterings of Goniff's to be unpleasant, in fact, found them rather comforting to hear in the middle of the night when they were right next to his ear, down at the Cottage, especially when they were answered by that little croon from Meghada.

That thought, while it made him smile, hadn't helped in his intention to settle down and get some sleep either, he found, and he shifted again. He turned on his side and slid his jacket up around his ears, muffling the sounds til he too drifted off to sleep.

***

He heard the sounds when they changed, heard the familiar shift from regular breathing to the more rapid, almost panicked inhalations. He'd gone through this before, more than once. {"Hell, he's having a nightmare! He had to pick tonight? He wakes everyone up, they're gonna want ta lynch him!"}. Casino gave a deep sigh of disgust, knowing that that wasn't really true, of course. They would be annoyed at being disturbed, but they each had their own trouble with nightmares, and they understood better than some might have.

He made his mistake when he decided to wake his friend up instead of letting one of the closer ones do it once one of them woke up enough to realize what was happening; it was habit, actually; back in the dorm it wouldn't have been so much of an issue, their cots were close enough he could stay pretty much where he was, just start talking to him, low but steady, til he brought him back to reality; it's just what they did for each other, Casino having some pretty bad dreams himself sometimes. Here, he was too far away, with at least one of the team in between, and some of those crates close enough he'd have to watch not to brush against them and knock them over.

He tried being careful, but as he crept over to try and wake him, he stumbled over one of those blasted metal fittings in the floor, crashed into a stack of crates, and came down on his knees at the edge of the mattress, his outstretched hands catching the bedding and the figure laying there, losing his balance, falling forward. He remembered thinking as he went down, {"now I'M the one they're gonna lynch for waking them up!"} 

***  
He hated being cold, and the smell of apples mixed with mold and rot and the overpowering smell of smoke, it all made him shiver; made him think of things he hadn't thought of in years, things he'd slid into one of those rooms in his mind where he kept such, things that shouldn't see the light of day.

Resolutely he turned his mind to other, more pleasant things, trying to relax enough to sleep. He thought about the reading he and Meghada had been doing, and how the guys would tease if they knew about it. He'd started just to please her, but soon remembered how much he liked it and looked forward to it now. He thought of that last book they'd read together, the story he'd found so enjoyable, though he'd not expected to. It'd sounded fair silly when she described it. He'd never even heard of a 'hobbit', but found himself in strange kinship with the little fellow who kept having adventures against his own inclinations. {"Now, there's another what wanted a simple, uncomplicated life, for all the good it did 'im! Just goes to show,"} though he wasn't sure of what.

He thought of what he'd like best to be having for breakfast, not that he'd be getting it of course, but just thinking, enjoying the possibilities, debating the relative joys of bacon and eggs versus honey drenched pancakes with sausages. He thought of Meghada and Craig and that time in the garden, when the day had been warm and sunny and quiet, and the day had drifted into night and no one else around and . . . Well, no, best not think in that direction, that wasn't going to let him get to sleep! He focused on breathing, in and out, nice and slow, and gradually he drifted off.

When he first got a glimpse of the figures flitting around the sides of his mind, well, he wasn't surprised; he and nightmares were old companions. While he couldn't say they were friends, at least most of them were familiar enough not to wake him at first sight, and sometimes, because they were so familiar he knew where they were headed, he could even catch them early on, turn them around, make them end not so badly. Meghada had taught him that, she'd taught more than one of the team how to do that, 'lucid dreaming' she'd called it, and in doing so had saved them from some of the depression and anxiety that followed many of the dreams, some of the sleepless nights that came from trying to avoid them. 

When the nightmare came, it was not one of the more familiar ones, though; it was the old one, the one he thought he'd gotten away from, had locked away where it couldn't ravage him any more. One he wasn't prepared for, one that came on so quickly and so hard he hadn't a chance against it. Now, here it was, and he was twelve again, and he'd been pulled back into that burnt out produce warehouse down by the wharfs, and it was all happening again, and he couldn't breathe; he couldn't live through this again, he knew it, it would finish him to live through this again, and his body responded to the terror in his mind, and his heartbeat raced and his breathing came in uneven gasps. When yet another one reached for him, shoving those crates out of the way, them falling with a crash, pushing him down hard onto the floor beneath him, he screamed, loud, agonized screams, flailing with closed fists, fighting to get away, to get away . . .

***

The old shed erupted in noise and the sleeping men leapt to their feet in confusion. That loud crash and thud, cursing, now screams that split the night, sounds of fighting; they reached for weapons they didn't have, and Garrison was cursing now as well, as he fumbled for the battery lanterns he'd brought with them. He got them turned on, moved forward to see his men all facing the back corner where Casino and Goniff were struggling.

"What the hell?? What's going on?"

Chief shook his head, "don't know, but we'd better get them apart 'fore one of em gets hurt."

They started to move forward when Casino broke free and threw himself back away from the wild eyed man in the corner in front of them, who now had a broken shard from one of the crates in his hand, blood running from it, pointing it at them. 

Sprawled, half seated, Casino gasped, "Christ! Warden, he ain't even awake! We gotta get that away from him before he hurts himself even more!" and as if to reinforce that, they saw the huddled figure start to turn the sharp piece of wood away from them, back towards himself.

The collar of his tunic was already soaked red with his blood from where he'd made the first gash. His eyes moved from one to the other, not a hint of recognition in them, only terror. They barely recognized his voice now, strained and somehow much younger, more that of a child, as he gasped painfully at them, his chest heaving, "no, get back all of you, please, no, I'll die first, I swear."

Casino swallowed, told them, "he was having a nightmare, I was gonna try to wake him, stumbled over one a those damned things in the floor, hit the crates, fell and half landed on him. Shit! Warden . . ." looking to their team leader helplessly.

Garrison was moving forward, slowly, but the eyes on him were becoming, if anything, more panicked, the hand bringing that wooden dagger closer to his throat. He dropped to his knees, slowly, "everyone keep back," he said quietly.

"Warden, he dont know you, be careful!"

"Craig . . ."

He ignored them, only looking at the figure in front of him, {"God, I wish Meghada was here, she could get through to him. I don't know if I can,"} but looking at the shaking body in front of him, {"but I have to; right now, I'm maybe the only one who has a chance,"} but wondering if that was even true, if the past had such a hold that the present might not be able to win over.

{"Maybe what's between us, will that help? Or maybe even make it worse,"} he thought. He firmed his lips, knowing he had to try; if he did nothing, there'd be more blood on that cold concrete floor, maybe too much blood, and he couldn't let that happen, he couldn't!

"Shhhhhh, it's alright, I swear," not knowing what he would say, not even knowing if it would make a difference, just hoping his voice would get through. Reassurances, promises, words that made sense, words that made no sense at all, word after word, soft, low, minute after minute, now with his hands, then his arms outstretched with his palms open. Slowly, the breathing eased, became more normal, that tight mask relaxing into something closer to the face they knew, still agonized, eyes now blinking rapidly.

They watched as he slowly came to know them, to see them, to frown in puzzlement. They saw when the reaction set in, when the pain hit him; he dropped the sharp piece of wood, his hand bloody, raising it to touch at his throat. Garrison reached him as his blue eyes rolled back, before his rapidly folding body hit the floor.

"Actor, the med kit!" that being something the tall man had brought with them, just out of habit. The others pulled closer, til Actor motioned them aside. Garrison was sitting sideways now on the thin mattress, the shaking body of the smaller Englishman clasped tightly against him.

"Here, let me see," Actor said in a hushed voice, and they moved together to tilt his chin upward, to see the gash that had come close, too close, to the big vein in his throat. Working quickly Actor had the blood staunched, wound bandaged, then went on to his hand, to clean and bandage the thankfully shallow wound there. 

Casino had kept quiet all this time, but now he licked his lips, "I shoulda kept back, just . . . I can most times pull him outta one of those, ya know? He has some bad ones, sometimes. Never nothin like this, though, not like this. Christ!, his voice . . . Never intended . . ." looking sick.

Actor looked at him, then at Chief who wasn't looking much better. {"I think we all saw too much, and I think perhaps Goniff isn't the only one with such memories. I know I have some of my own."} He knew Garrison had, he'd been the one to help pull him out of that Gestapo cell, had seen what had been done. Chief he'd long thought that was the case, Casino being the only one in doubt. Now, looking at those pained brown eyes, he wasn't sure; if there wasn't personal experience there, there was something, a painful knowledge, maybe a holdover from that episode with the Miggs family, maybe something else. 

One by one they brought their bedding closer, forming a circle of warmth around the two, folding blankets around them, not talking, each of them thinking thoughts they'd prefer not to be thinking. Garrison could feel when the slender body in his arms finally shuddered one last time, then relaxed into an exhausted sleep, when the breathing eased.

Actor watched carefully, not just Goniff's face but Garrison's as well. He could feel, could see when Goniff turned his head into Garrison's shoulder, moved just a bit as if seeking comfort, sighed, and settled again.

"Craig, you can lay him down on the blankets now, I think he'll be alright," Actor murmured, only to get an equally low, "no, he's fine where he is for now," looking up with wet green eyes to look into the understanding dark brown ones. He tightened his grip just a bit, shifted his position slightly, lowered his own gold blond head to rest against the lighter flaxen colored one, whispering again, "he's fine where he is."

Actor looked up at the others, Chief had a full knowing, a full acceptance in his gaze; Casino was still too shaken by what he had inadvertently put into motion to understand what he was seeing, that it was anything other, anything more than the Warden taking care of one of his men when they were hurt, like he always had. Actor thought that was just as well; he thought Casino would be the one to have the greater reservations about this, be concerned about his friend. For himself, he thought Goniff was where he belonged, the only improvement would have been with the addition of a certain red haired figure there, holding them both close in her arms, close to her heart. 

***

He woke slowly, wondering where he was, why his throat and hand were throbbing, but feeling a familiar body close against him, holding him, relaxed into that warmth. {"Don't remember being 'eaded for the Cottage, couldn't've 'ad that much to drink, and sides, don't drink much when I'm going to be with them, not if I know."} He drank to chase the nightmares, the demons away; when he was with Craig or Meghada, the nightmares, the demons, well they didn't have a chance against those two, or even either one of them, so he didn't have to fall back on that.

He frowned to himself, concerned he didn't remember, then when he felt the body shift, the arms tighten around him, he smiled to himself, whispered, "Craig" and opened his eyes slightly, tilted his head to brush it against the other, then as the worried green eyes met his own, he remembered, at least some, and froze. His blue eyes widened and he pulled away slightly, looked quickly around, seeing the faintest of shadows, others stretched out nearby, still sleeping by the looks of it. A whisper came back at him, as Craig started to pull him close again, "it's early, go back to sleep," and he wanted to, he wanted to move close, let those warm arms close around him again, but he knew that wouldn't be smart. He had to be careful, for Craig's sake, never letting a hint drop, never anything that anyone could see that could cause trouble; the Cottage, well, that was different, that was another world, but this obviously wasn't the Cottage, like he'd first thought when he'd awakened. He smiled a bit sadly, and shook his head, whispered so softly, "sorry, for a minute thought we were . . ." and got a understanding nod complete with its own soft smile. 

Garrison quietly moved back, easing Goniff down onto the mattress, putting his own blanket over him, resting a gentle hand on that thin wiry shoulder for a moment before he slowly unfolded his aching body to stand and stretch the muscles cramped from sitting and holding his love through what had remained of the night, and headed outside to check the day, to pull his composure back into place.

The Sergeant Major was coming down the path, and the two men nodded a greeting. "Coming to see you, sir. Got my ears 'anded to me, I did, putting you all out 'ere last night. She got back in the wee 'ours, so didn't know till just a bit ago; told me to get you all over there right away; anything like this comes again, Goniff knows where the keys are, and told me too, just in case, to set you all up there, in the three cottages. Told 'er the brass'd be bloody pissed at that, and she gave a snarl like that big dog of 'er sister's, said she'd bloody well take care of any objections from that lot, and gave a pretty good idea of where they could stick those objections as well!" Both men chuckled; {"yeah, I can just picture that, both of those scenes!" } 

The Sergeant Major frowned in concern, looking at Garrison's jacket, "didn't know you'd gotten 'urt with all that last night, sir," and Garrison looked down to see blots and smears of blood on his uniform.

"Not me, Goniff took some damage, Actor had the med kit, so we were fine. Don't make a fuss, okay?" and the noncom knew there was a story there, one of the many he knew he'd likely never hear, but respecting what was being asked of him. This might not be a conventional officer, but the Sergeant Major sincerely approved of him, thought he'd done a job of molding these men into a team others would have been hard put to do. And aside from all that, he was just a likeable sort; well, so were the men, 'the lads', though he'd never tell them that, even discounting how much they made him want to tear his hair out sometimes with their foolishness.

"Well, I won't, but don't know about 'er; can't make any promises there," he warned, and Craig chuckled.

"Can you get some fresh clothes over to us there, something that'll fit, well as much as usual anyway, something that doesn't smell like badly cured bacon? I'll take the guys over soon as I get everyone lined up."

"I'll do that. She says she'll get breakfast started when you get there, so don't tarry too long."

"What about you?"

"She already fed me, she did, best I've 'ad in awhile, all the time she was peeling the 'ide off me for not 'aving as much common sense as she'd thought I 'ad. Brought me a few other comforts since I 'ave to stay 'ere. She's a good lass, just . . ." and he and Garrison said it together, "a bit peppery", laughing softly.

***  
They were up now, folding their bedding into a stack to be retrieved later, not saying much, trying not to look at the splashes of blood on the one mattress and on the floor. Goniff was paler even than usual, close to matching the shade of his bandages, remembering all now, shamefaced and not looking at any of them, occasionally reaching down and touching one finger to the dried bloodstains on his tunic and swallowing deeply. Usually he was mistaken for one of the youngest, younger than Garrison, whose air of authority made him seem older, and all the others except for Chief; now, for once, he looked his age and more, older, tired, withdrawn, more than a bit lost, no, maybe abandoned, isolated, would be better words.

The others shot quick sideways concerned glances at him, which he was very careful not to meet. When Garrison told them breakfast was waiting at the Cottage, and better quarters in the works, fresh clothes on its way, the rest brightened somewhat, but still were more solemn than usual, by far, Goniff still not saying a word. 

They walked up to the vehicle hut, and had settled into the jeep to drive over, Actor and Garrison in the back with Goniff at Garrison's far side, where he could feel the occasional shudder in the slender body next to him. Casino was next to Chief, who had put the key in the ignition, turned it to hear the motor thrum, and just sat there, til Garrison was about to ask what the problem was, tell him to move on, then he reached down to turn it off again.

Facing straight ahead, hands tightly clinched on the steering wheel, knuckles showing white from the pressure, voice flat, without emotion, "Statenville - after I put the hurt on one of the other cons who tried somethin. The Warden, that was Pryor, he threw me in the Big Dark for a week; let the screws know I was fair game. Most stayed away, not wantin to risk it, knowing I'd fight then, that I wouldn forget em later. Most of em stayed away. Not all. I was sixteen." There was dead silence, shock at the most private of them all actually telling them that. Silence. 

Actor cleared his throat, swallowed audibly, his voice more husky than usual, like he had a bad sore throat, "Vienna, someone I'd thought of as a friend set me up, handed me over to one of the local aristos and his father, who'd seen me and was willing to pay him handsomely for arranging some uninterrupted 'private time', somewhere where no one could hear anything, could interfere. I had no idea til I walked into his house to find them waiting. I was eighteen." Silence. 

Garrison swallowed, knowing just how hard those confessions had been; his voice was scratchy, "you were there, Gestapo Headquarters in Veilstadten, that Gestapo major, you all pulled me out of there." 

Goniff wasn't looking at the floorboards anymore, his face was doing an excellent imitation of a tragic mask - he was looking at his team mates, his friends in wide eyed shock, in dismay, in amazement at what they were willing to reveal about themselves, at what they were giving him. And there was no mistake, it was a gift, he knew it was a gift, and all because they cared about him. Sure, he'd known about Craig, hell, he'd helped get him outta there, tend him afterwards, but not about the others; had known, especially with them all being in prison, of the likelihood, but it wasn't something they'd discussed, ever. Silence. 

Casino sat like a statue, looking down at his hands clenched on his knees, and Actor thought he might have been wrong, then abruptly, in a rough voice, "the apartment over my old man's car repair shop," and gave a bitter little laugh, "my uncle Luigi, if you can believe it; got interrupted fore he could . . .well, still, it went far enough there was no mistake what he intended." He paused, "he was a priest, supposedly preparing me for my first Communion; I musta been eight or so. My old man, Christ! they found 'uncle Luigi' floatin in the river a few days later, holy shit beat outta him. Cops never could figure out who'd want to hurt 'that nice priest'!" Silence. 

Garrison eased his arm up to rest on the back of the seat, letting it slide down to touch, rest against slim shoulders, that wire-tense back. {"Just because it's crowded back here, that's all."}

Finally, that quiet raspy voice, "I was twelve, running a message for one of the local bosses down on the wharf. Part of a ship's crew unloading at the docks grabbed me. Pulled me into an old burnt out warehouse, musty, old rotten crates everywhere just ready to come crashing down; use to snitch apples outta there when it was up and running, I remember, could still smell em in the air."

Garrison winced, {"trigger points, a warehouse full of old rotting crates, smoke, mold, the smell of apples; dear God, I don't see how he could have avoided last night! And 'part' of a crew??! Just how many . . . ??"} picturing a flaxen haired gamin, small for his age, wide mischievious grin on his face, and he was sick, and he ached inside, as he had for Chief and the others, only this was different, deeper somehow.

He knew he needed to get names, descriptions; he knew he had a job to do, vermin to be found and put down, but he could wait til they were in private before he asked more questions. But it would get done, the only question would be whether to bring Meghada into it; he rather thought he should, he thought she would be offended otherwise, and she had the right, as well as he did, would want to be part of it. Some part of him wondered at those thoughts, at how calmly he was planning this, but no part of him objected. 

The rasping voice dropped lower, "found them all, later; took a couple a years, maybe a bit more, but afore I was fifteen, I'd found them all, put paid to them all," and then, as if realizing what he'd just told them, what he'd confessed to, part of what he'd kept hidden for all these years while he played the genial, cheerful, hapless clown, he looked up, wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, to meet their eyes, but none showed anything other than staunch support, firm approval.

"Good!" came from Chief, with a nod; followed by murmurs of the same from the others, and a firm clasp of Garrison's hand on his shoulder, those green eyes looking into his, "Good!" And looking at them, questioning, in wonder, he knew they meant it, every one of them. He had nothing to fear from these men, his friends, his brothers, his family. And he closed his own eyes, hiding that faint mist he knew was covering them by then, well, had to be judging by how much trouble he was having seeing clearly. He heard the engine catch as Chief started the jeep, and the road disappeared behind them as they headed out to breakfast and shelter. 

Garrison's eyes were wet, as well, behind closed lids. {"Dear God, the strength, the will he had to have had, at that age, even to survive, then to find them, to do what needed to be done!"}. And he wondered at the disparity between what he knew now, what he'd come to know, and what he'd innocently thought to be the truth when he'd first met this man, and he felt the love, the solid acknowledgement of which he had already thought to be deep and rich and real, well, he felt it slip into place at a level he hadn't thought possible, and he wondered if she knew what, who this man was. Somehow, he rather thought she did, perhaps always had, and he wondered at her willingness to share this one with him, and knew he would always owe her a debt of gratitute for that. 

***  
She heard the jeep pull up, and hurried to open the kitchen door. They came around the corner, her still being surprised to see Goniff coming through the gate instead of over the wall. She smiled to herself, remembering the first time she'd seen him, perched bent-legged up there like a friendly gargoyle, grinning at her. The smile disappeared when she caught the bandages at his throat, on his hand, the blood on his tunic; more, she caught the pallor of his face and the slightly dazed look in his eye. She shifted her gaze to Garrison, seeing the blood on his uniform as well, to see the warning, the pleading in his eyes, the tiny intense shake of his head, and she took a deep breath. {"Trouble, yes, but Craig thinks he has it under control, wants me to not press. Okay, I trust him; he cares as much about our Englishman as I do, I think, if that's possible."} 

She remembered a time when she'd not have trusted him so, not with the welfare of this man she cared for, loved so much, nor with the others, but that was in the past, and this was now. So she smiled, and greeted them warmly, not addressing the blood or any of the rest, not directly anyway, ushering them into the kitchen.

"Craig, do you have fresh clothes coming for all of you? Seems you all need it, smoke does leave its mark. I have a few things here, sort of multipurpose for when the family shows up, but certainly nothing Actor could fit into, unless we drape a couple of sheets around him toga style. Though I do have a rather elegant bedspread that he'd look wonderful in, just his colors!" He laughed hoarsely and assured her the Sergeant Major was rounding up fresh clothes and would drop them off as soon as he could. 

"Well, lads, you know where the loo is here, door at the back of the library there, and there's one in each of the other cottages too, though no hot water laid on in the last one, doors are unlocked; breakfast will be on the table in ten minutes. I've set up the other two cottages; there's two beds in the middle one, a bed and two cots in the far one. Sorry for the cots; I don't usually have so many guests at one time, but they're good sturdy ones, one and a half's, with decent mattresses. Feel free to arrange yourselves as you please. The middle cottage has its own small kitchen, the far one doesn't, so whoever ends up in there will need to get coffee and such from one of the others, though I put in a warmer plate to keep a pot of coffee hot once you fetch it. As far as meals go, as long as I'm here, if I'm not called away, I can manage those in here or in the garden at the long table, but I've put some things in the cold box next door, just as tide-me-overs, you know, along with fruit and bread and a bit else on the counter there and on the table in the far one. Anything you need you don't see, just ask."

Yes, she was rather chattering, but that kept her from drawing him into her arms, perhaps embarrassing him, which she'd not want to do. Oh, but how she wanted to pull him close! Garrison watched her, understanding, giving her a wry smile as she fought her inclinations. Oh, he did understand! A vision, the three of them on their knees, arms intertwined, Goniff in the center, enveloped by the two who loved him so much - he swallowed deeply, his eyes seeming to automatically seek out hers, to see her having perhaps the same vision. A promise passed between them, a sweet vow, and they shared a nod, a smile, and then turned to the others.

By then the Sergeant Major was at the door with two duffles of uniforms and other gear, and he was invited in, but refused saying he had to get back to the Mansion. He left, telling Garrison he'd let him know if the inspector arrived.

"All right then, food first then cleanup? Or other way around?" She was assured that food should come first, Goniff starting to show that first sign of shaking off whatever had him so rattled, and she bustled around, them sitting at the table drinking coffee, not saying a lot. Soon thick and fluffy scrambled eggs (real ones, not powdered), fried potatoes with onions and peppers, flat bread, jam, broiled tomatoes topped with bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese, actual bacon - not a lot of it, but enough for a couple of slices for each man. The others pretended not to notice when she casually slid most of her share of the meal off to the neighboring plate as his was rapidly emptied, where her offering was met with a quick, grateful, though tired smile. Seemingly she was contented with mostly a piece of flatbread with broiled tomato atop it. 

They were close to finishing when she got up and opened the pie cupboard, "picked this up on the way home at an early market; can't say how good it is, but it looked fairly appetizing to me at three in the morning." She slid a large lattice crusted tart onto the table, golden filling slightly visible, certainly not berry of any kind, and Goniff turned two shades paler.

"Apple?"

She could feel the tension grow around the table, and wondered. She knew how HE felt about apples, would eat them if nothing else, truly NOTHING ELSE was available, but with distaste, not with any relish, certainly, but the rest of them too?

"No, of course not; know you'd not care for that, and you're the one with the sweet tooth, not me. Pear, she told me, with walnuts and currants, and she promised there's even a bit of caramel tucked in there; I knew you'd like that." And she could see him relax, and when he smiled up at her, his eyes were tired but not so remote as they had been.

"Thanks, luv."

She touched his cheek lightly with one finger, wondering, accepting, wanting to reach down to him, enfold him, still resisting the need. 

Turning to Garrison she asked, "any idea of your plans for the day? Do you have to keep them busy, or do you think they might have a day off? The library is small, but I'm sure there's something that could serve, if any are of a mind; the garden is nice and it's warm out there today, and there are extra chairs and benches we can put out. I picked up newspapers in London, along with a copy of the US version of Life magazine, AND a copy of London Life, which I swear is a girlie mag pretending to be otherwise, so don't fight over that one, if you please, guys, just share nicely, and no, I'll not want it back after you've drooled over it!" They laughed, as she'd expected them to, although more subdued than usual.

"They're on the sideboard in the sitting room. And you might just want to fit a nap or two into the schedule; Sergeant Major says you all had an eventful night."

Garrison gave her a rueful look, "you might say that. And I think a day off is exactly what they need. I should probably get back up there, though, wait for the inspector, get some work done."

"It was known you had to evacuate, wasn't it? And isn't the Sergeant Major doing just that, waiting for the inspector and all? And don't they have the phone number to call you here when he arrives, or if you are needed in the meantime?" and the men watched, trying to hide their grins as their commander was easily out-manoeuvered by the redhead, to find he also was in store for a day off, in spite of himself.

{"Well,"} taking a quick look over at the still too quiet figure of his pickpocket, {"I think I'm better off staying here today anyway."} Then, with a rare burst of honest self-indulgence, {"it's where I want to be today."} 

So they took turns in the loo, her heating water on the stove against the time when the small boiler would run dry of that supply. Clean, in fresh clothes, reaching for another slice of that tart, which was indeed pear, with all kinds of tasty additions including more than a little of rich caramel, well worth the rather outrageous price she'd paid for it when she'd seen the pastry stall setting up at that village market on her drive home and thought of him, they talked over the arrangements. Chief and Casino in the middle cottage, Actor, Garrison and Goniff in the far one. They all knew where Goniff would end up spending his nighttime, all but Casino knew Garrison would likely be in that same wide bed. However, propriety was maintained and gear moved to the appropriate cottage. 

Garrison waited til they were alone to hesitantly ask, "does she know? I mean . . ." to be surprised at the quiet answer.

"I don't know, I've never told 'er flat out, and she's never brought it up, but there's things she knows, for certain, that she'll not bring up less I do first. She's, well, kind that way, respectful, if you know what I mean. She picked up on me not wanting, well, 'aving a right strong dislike for apples right off, even the smell, and 'er 'aving the trees right there at the back of the garden, so she's always used them, made things of them. Never puts anything like that on the table now, even keeps the 'arvesting done when I'm away; don't ask why, just does, for all we tease 'er about not being subtle. Seems I talk in my sleep sometimes; been told I make noises a lot, but no one's ever been able to pick out words afore 'er, but she can. Still, there's sometimes something in 'ow she talks about things, or a look she gets on 'er face; something she said when you and I first, well that first night, like she was glad for us, like she'd been worried a bit, considering . . . ."

"I just don't know for sure, but I'd say yes, just not the details. She's always been, I don't know, careful of me, never assuming I'm alright with something, even the most . . . always taking time to be sure. After a bad night, once, not like last night, nothing near, but bad enough, she asked me if there was someone she needed to kill, never turned a 'air, you know, no bluster, just matter of fact, just askin'. Early on, with that Corporal Samson, when she talked about slitting the bastard's throat, somehow I knew she'd not wink at it, if need be. Sounds right awful, I suppose, but made me feel, I don't know, warm somehow, cause I could tell she meant it, she'd do that for me, if it were needed."

Craig thought of his earlier thoughts and knew he'd judged her right, she wouldn't have blinked an eye, just done what needed to be done. 

Goniff said, in a wondering tone, "didn't matter to 'er." Then he frowned, "no, that aint right. Aint that it don't MATTER, think it does that rightly enough, more than a little. It's that it didn't make 'er think LESS of me, 'er knowing." He shook head at the thought of that, still not understanding any of that, any more than he understood most of what she did, thought concerning him.

"Never been something I was ready to say right out. Never told anyone before, other than a friend I 'ad back then, same age as me, Davey was." He looked down and gave a sad and bitter laugh, "and 'e didn't want to be friends anymore after that, wouldn't even speak. Don't know if 'e was afraid it'd make 'im a target or that I'd try for 'em, or if it just put 'im off." 

"What about your parents? Did they go to the Police, after they got you medical help".

There was silence, then, "they never knew."

Garrison was frozen for a moment. "But . . ."

"Mum, she was away with Aunt Mollie, 'elping with getting resettled after she'd moved flats. Me Dad, 'e'd've just said it was my own doing, looking like I did. Never thought I was 'is, you know; a big dark brawny man like that. Said I was too pretty looking to be 'is."

"But how . . ." and Garrison's voice was hoarse, sandpapered. 

"Found a corner back of one of the stores, 'ad a 'osepipe; got cleaned up as best I could. Always 'ad a few 'ideaway places, for when 'e was in on a tear about something or other. Stayed away for more than a week, til I could move better. Then 'e gave me a thrashing for being gone, gettin my clothes so torn up, so didn't matter if I still wasn't moving right, there was a good enough explanation for Mum when she came 'ome. Though she gave 'im a right what-for in turn."

He shrugged, and the sheer defiant 'not that I care' look on his face caused Garrison to set aside all caution and step behind him and pull him back into his arms, folding his arms around him at the shoulders, resting their heads together, just holding him close. Slowly Goniff's arms moved til they rested on top of Garrison's, holding on tightly. They stayed that way for a long time, hearts breaking, hearts mending, til Actor entered the room, having thought to spend a few minutes in that comfortable chair reading.

Now, clearing his throat, the tall con man quietly said, "I'm told luncheon will be served in twenty minutes, in the garden. I'll see you there," turned and took his book and himself out to settle on a chair in the sun. 

Chief joined him, "they doin okay?" to receive a considering look and a deep sigh.

"I believe so. What you did, in the jeep . . . That was a very brave thing, a very kind thing to do."

Chief shrugged, "you did the same, you and the others. Never been a reason to say anything, talk about it; won't do it again, most likely. Just, now, thought maybe he needed to know wasn't just him; and us knowing, findin out that way, didn mean we'd be thinkin less of him."

"Yes, I think he needed very much to know that."

And when Casino yelled at them to "get your lazy butts in here and start carryin stuff out if you wanna eat!" with a level of subtlety they'd have expected more from a member of the Clan, they shook their heads and chuckled and headed in the direction of the main cottage, seeing Garrison and Goniff coming from the third cottage at the same time. 

They all helped, Meghada not anywhere in sight, and when they sat down and she was still missing, and Casino indicated they were supposed to go ahead and eat, Garrison asked Casino about her. He got a deep chuckle, "she got everything together, then she took lunch up to the Sergeant Major, along with a thermos of coffee. Said if she let you do it, you'd find some reason to stay and get back ta work, so she just took care of it herself. Took all our dirty stuff with her, said she'd see to getting it all cleaned. If you aint noticed it, Limey, you got yourself a real take-charge type a broad there," gently teasing his friend.

He was relieved to see something resembling the familiar grin cross the pickpocket's face, "she is that! And in case you didn't notice," looking with something of his more accustomed satisfaction at the hearty spread in front of them, "she can cook too!" to their joined laughter, him always telling them that was the main point to look for in a woman, well, one of the main points anyway.

She got back by the time they were finishing, just in time to have a cup of coffee with them. Sergeant Major had been more than pleased with the lunch and the coffee, and he'd told her the inspector had just called and would be there the next morning around ten. He walked her through the building, and she hurried to create more order, or at least less disorder in the dorm and the common room.

She'd considered gathering the smoke filled bedding and clothing, but once she looked around, she realized it was the curtains and drapes and rugs and wall hangings and so much more, and that was just beyond her, and left the bedding to be dealt with along with all the rest, after she removed their 'reading material' from under their mattresses, tucking each handful into the respective footlocker, chuckling at the variety and scope she'd discovered. {"My goodness, Casino! How very well DIVERSIFIED you are!"}

So she bundled up just their clothing to drop off at Mrs. Wilson's, she who took in laundry in the village, not being sure the military would think that necessary, and her not content with leaving it to their hands, and it not being time for the basket to be sent out. She did a fast run through, taking Actor's pipe and tobacco, hoping with it being sealed in a humidor it would have survived the smoke and damp. Chief's sheath and switchblade was gathered up as well. She thought about bringing Goniff's dice, but when a toss of her hand revealed their secret, she chuckled and tucked them back in his footlocker; they were so obvious she knew he didn't intend to fool anyone, more likely just used them to set Casino into a tirade. Still, she had cards aplenty and the cottage couldn't handle the breakage if he and Casino got into it over them; she'd barely gotten things together after the Carloff fiasco. Casino had a letter started, but the paper was smoky and damp, so she left it. She had stationery at home if he wanted to start over. For Garrison, well, if the book on military manouvers didn't interest him, the garden could yield a bare patch of dirt and a stick if he got bored, she thought with a grin.

She bade farewell to the Sergeant Major, well contented now, savoring the hot coffee and the sharp cheese and scones and tiny jar of apple butter she'd brought for him. Yes, she used apples, just not around or for her Englishman; she'd seen in the past his reaction; even the smell seemed to bother him, for whatever reason, so the trees in back of the garden would continue to be harvested, but the results would be traded away. She rather regretted the loss of the apple butter, she liked it and it had been part of her yearly routine, the making of it, but it was unimportant next to his comfort.

{"Maybe I'll trade for pears or cherries; I've some nice recipes for each, and a rich cherry butter, or pear conserve with raisins, well, that's not something to turn your nose away from. Oooh, or maybe plums! I've a lovely recipe for a plum tart! Maybe some of each??"}. So far he hadn't seemed to mind the trees themselves, and she hoped that would continue to be the case; she would regret the losing of them, if not able to use the harvest in and of itself, then as valuable barter, and she did like the sight of the trees in blossom! Well, they'd see. There was more there than a casual dislike; she put it at a similar level to her avoidance of fish stew, only even more so; she still got sick if she thought too hard on that incident, and got the shakes too, along with nightmares, and no, she preferred not to discuss it either! Bless him, he'd asked for it once, but seeing the look on her face, seeing her response, he'd quickly said that he'd changed his mind, didn't much fancy it anyway, and called for something else and never asked for it again. Well, she could do as well for him, she vowed!

She dropped off the clothes at Mrs. Wilsons, whose jaw dropped at the huge stack presented to her. The old woman didn't protest though, knowing she'd get full payment and probably a bit more; the O'Donnell lass was trustworthy that way, they all knew. "If you can start with one set of everything for each of them, that would be helpful, then follow with the rest. There's five of them, one very tall, one short and wiry, the others stairstepping in between; I'm sure you'll see. Just let me know when they're done; I'll pick them up or send someone, both lots," she said with a gentle smile, the hard working old woman being one of her favorites from the time of her first arrival here in Brandonshire. Though it was probably silly, she pretended not to know about Mrs. Wilson's doing the laundry for the guys on a regular basis.

"Here's something on it, just let me know the full toll when you know," handing over some folded bills.

{"Yes, she's a good lass, she is!"} the woman thought, tucking the money into her pocket, thinking how this would make market day a lot more pleasant, not having to be quite so careful, getting only part of what she needed, but for once, maybe all, maybe enough to start putting a bit aside for the winter. If she wasn't mistaken, there was probably more here than she'd have felt right in charging, and she knew the girl wouldn't let it go at that. 

"Now, some's dirty, some's just smoky, some's wet, you'll know best how to deal, I know. And I didn't check pockets and such, so if you find anything that needs to be returned, just set it aside for later. Them being guys, no telling what you might find! Oh, and I've something for you, I made far too much, you know, and thought you might help me by sharing, not wanting any waste, of course," handing over another jar of apple butter, this time one quite a bit bigger, along with a half-dozen plain scones she'd baked earlier, along with a decent round of butter.

The old woman chuckled to herself, {"not a gift, that I might think I need to return in kind, but 'I'd be helping her by taking her good fruit butter and fresh baking', doing her a favor, like. Yes, she's a good lass. Though what she's doing dealing with the laundry from up Mansion way, I don't know, and surely that's where this lot came from! I do them up twice a week, should be able to recognize them now. Well, her business is her business, doesn't look like she's coming to any harm, not with that smile and that peaceful look to her eyes."}

They smiled at each other, well in charity with each other, and Meghada thought the apple butter had found a good home. {"She'll enjoy it, and might as well have it go to someone who will. No sense it sitting in my cupboard, or being out on the table if he shows up unexpectedly to put him off."} She might never know the why, she understood that, it was up to him to share that if he chose to, but she knew the what and that was enough to let her work around. It was a little thing to do, and hardly one to begrudge.

She drew the line at removing the apple mint from the herb garden though; she just retitled it the old country name 'horse mint', often called that anyway for its size, changing the label and all, both the metal one in the garden, and the tie-on ones in the pantry; {"sure it doesn't smell anything like apples; I always thought it smelled more like cat piss myself! But it has its uses, works well for various ailments, and it's already established, and it'd be the devil's own job to try and uproot it all; probably just end up spreading it hither and yon if I tried!"} 

She handed Actor his pipe and humidor, to get a pleased smile in return; to Chief she slid his sheath and switchblade across the table to him, smiling in her turn to see the eagerness with which he claimed them. Turning to Casino, "I've stationery and pens in the desk in the office, if you'd like; help yourself." She knew Goniff knew where the cards were, and the chess set was out in the open in the sitting room. She turned to Garrison, "inspector's due at the Mansion at ten in the morning; you can take Sergeant Major his breakfast, since I'm thinking you'll be wanting to get up there bright and early to be prepared."

Sitting back, taking another sip from her cup, "all of your clothes, all I could find anyway, I think I found all your hideyholes, that's up at Mrs. Wilson's. She'll work on one fresh set for each of you first, then the others, and she'll give a call when it's ready." She decided against telling them she'd moved their reading material, thinking it might embarrass them, thinking of what she'd seen. Again, Casino's name came to mind, and she shook her head again, wanting to giggle, remembering. "And, guys, that 17th Century Chinoiserie vase, the tall one with the birds and butterflies and the bell top, I'm not sure that's really the best place for your dirty socks! Almost tipped in on my head trying to dig them out of there! Thought I'd have to get the Sergeant Major to pull me out!" to their assorted laughs and Garrison's exasperated scolding.

Casino snickered, "yeah, like I said, a real take-charge type!" 

The warmth of the sun, the good food, the exertions of the night, and by early afternoon, the guys each sought out their beds for a nap. Chief and Casino left first, walking into the middle cottage, looked at the room they'd be sharing, real beds, real sheets and bedspreads, real pillows. Nothing fancy, just sturdy, wellmade, comfortable. They looked at each other, gave just a hint of a smile, took off their boots and stretched out.

Chief was just getting drowsy when Casino asked in a strange tone of voice, "hey, Indian, that Major in Veilstadten, you REALLY didn't off him?" and turned his head, frowning somewhat as he looked at his roommate.

"No. It wasn't you?"

"No, not me. Was just thinking . . ." and they shared a look, thinking about what they'd found out about their resident pickpocket.

"Said he found em ALL, before he was fifteen, put an end to em. Fifteen. Wonder if he used a knife then too," and they each shook their head, still dumbfounded by the thought. Still, it was all in the past, so they rolled over, sighed and closed their eyes, finding sleep coming to them quick and easy and undisturbed. 

Actor looked at Garrison and Goniff, knowing they'd not be comfortable in the main cottage now, not til nightfall; Casino still hadn't figured things out, and this was hardly the time to let that penny drop. "You two go on, see if you can get some sleep. I'm going to browse the library again, settle into that big chair in the sitting room and have a pipe. I'll see you when you wake up, oh, and I'll take one of the cots, Craig, you take the bed," getting a couple of grateful smiles in return.

Meghada looked on in amusement, "and as for me, I've lists to make, dinner to think about, some writing and other things to get done; don't expect to see me about til you've rested and come back over," dropping a quick caress on the top of the flaxen blond head, a warm touch of her hand to Craig's shoulder. "Get along with you, now." 

She and Actor carried in the last of the lunch dishes, "that was kind of you," she told him.

He looked at her, smiling, "not really, just practical. They'd both just fidget so much I wouldn't get any rest anyway."

And she laughed, "do you want to use my bedroom?"

His brown eyes flared, and he replied sternly, with a reproving bit of a frown, "Meghada, there is a limit to the complications this team can handle, don't you think?" and she gaped at him, thinking he'd mistaken her offer for something quite different than she'd intended, then quickly moved to laugh at him, slapping the back of her hand lightly against his arm as he grinned, knowing that he'd purposely been baiting her.

"Well, the big chair is comfortable, but there is a Murphy bed in the office I can let down," and smiled knowingly as he admitted that might not be a bad idea, "just in case I get drowsy." She looked in on him ten minutes later, drawn by his rhythmic snores, and shook her head, "{yes, just in case,"} carefully placed a light cover over him, and chuckled as she made her way quietly back to the kitchen to plan out dinner.

{"It's a good thing I really enjoy cooking, planning meals, baking; with this crew, I look to get quite of bit of practice,"} hoping there'd be no calls from Kevin Richards to pull her away, and for once, her luck held, and the guys were back at the newly cleaned Mansion before that call came. To her surprise, no one even called to brace her on her opening her home to them; she thought perhaps the Sergeant Major had gone out of his way not to make that known, bless his sweet heart.

She did the various things she needed to do,including doing a bit of weeding in the garden and gathering the vegetables ready for harvest. By late afternoon she was back inside and changed into fresh clothes, starting to get things organized for the evening meal. She had hot water ready to make tea for any who wanted it, but didn't go in search of anyone, thinking the extra sleep wouldn't do them any harm. In the end, she ended up making just the one small pot, sipping her cup alone while she set the table, setting up the raised center shelf she used when she had this many people and raised the side flaps. That didn't leave much moving around room, but there was enough. She'd not even taken a nibble of the scones she'd prepared; as she'd said earlier, she wasn't the one with the sweet tooth, for all it seemed she was always baking anymore. 

By six o'clock they started trailing in, slightly abashed at having slept the afternoon away, her waving away their apologies, "thought you'd all would be better for a bit of undisturbed rest. Just means the scones will be eaten later rather than sooner."

"Scones?" came in an eager voice from her blond laddie, who was looking more rested, much more like himself, those dark circles under his eyes lighter, if not yet gone. she was pleased to see, and she sent a look of gratitute toward Garrison for that.

"Yes, but not for now. Supper's in just a bit, if you'll all get washed up."

So they sat down to a meal they looked at in some puzzlement, most over what was offered, Chief at his recognition of what was on the table. She laughed and explained, pointing to each item in turn, "the frybread, you spread it with whatever you want, sour cream, salsa (that's the tomatoey stuff in those jars, red tag is hot, green tag is hotter, so beware!), ground meat (no, Casino, it's not Spam, I promise! Lamb and beef!), sauteed onions and peppers, seasoned rice in that bowl, there's shredded cheese for on top. That dish, that's a type of fresh relish - chopped onion, pepper, celery, tomatoes, and some herbs. Then you just sort of fold it up, like this. . ." as she illustrated, "though that can be rather messy, or leave it flat and use a knife and fork." They looked at each other, shrugged, only her and Chief really adept at the process of the folding, and dove in. They agreed that, though it was messy, it was really good, and the meal ended with good spirits and laughter. 

She looked at the dishes and realized she wasn't going to have to worry about how to incorporate the leftovers into tomorrow's meals, since there weren't any. Even the scones were long gone. {"Better check the pantry tomorrow; may have to pull out some of what I'd put away for winter. Feeding five men is a quite a bit different than just feeding me, and when one of them is my Goniff, ai, might as well round it up to eight!"}.

She laughed, realizing how much she was enjoying this, the taking care of them, making sure they were comfortable, giving them some of what was so obviously missing in their lives, and an idea flitted across her mind, settled there, to be considered at more depth when time allowed.

A round of drinks in the sitting room, some good conversation, and everyone departed for a night's sleep. Chief and Casino settled back in, this time undressed and between the sheets instead of on top, smiling, inhaling deeply, enjoying that luxury. Actor and Garrison and Goniff talked a bit in the third cottage, til he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Will you two get out of here so I can get some sleep??!" he said with a grin, and with a quiet laugh, they wished him a good night and made their way quietly back to the main cottage, where their love awaited them.

And the night was about warmth, and comfort, and giving and taking, but most of all, about love, and about home. She woke in the wee hours, hearing Goniff's faint muttering, hearing Craig sigh and murmur something in return, turning to look at them, seeing them both still fast asleep, and smiled gently, shaking her head with sweet appreciation, enjoying the moment, taking a moment to pray the day would come when this wouldn't be a sometimes thing, but would be just how things were. And she slid back down, feeling them close, and went back to sleep.

****  
Something about a nightmare, once it gets a grip, it hates to let go. Meghada had thought that might be the case, and had coaxed him to learn how to change its direction. They'd talked about this before, after Professor Craleigh had played his tricks, she and the men, but now she encouraged him to find ways to use the skills they'd learned them to help with his nightmare. She couldn't help as much as she'd have liked, him not wanting her to know what the dream was, and she respected that, but she tried to give him ideas, told him he needed to pick one or two ways, one or two points early on in the dream where it could be shifted, try to think on it enough that when the dream came, if it did, he could catch it in time to control it. More, to find something, something special, that could serve as protection from the dream, going so far as to give some examples, "a magic ring, a Word of Power, a guardian angel, whatever seems to feel most natural to you."

That made sense to him, had worked with some of his milder nightmares, and he tried to put together a plan. Well, so far that hadn't been needed, the dream not coming back, not really. There'd been hints of it in the days and weeks that followed, but Casino had managed to wake him each time, right at the first, and when he'd get back to sleep, it wouldn't try again, at least not that night. Then, the night came when Casino had to spend the night in hospital, nothing too bad, just a bit banged up on that last mission. The others were too far away to hear when his sleep started to slide sideways, and then he was over the edge and lost.

*

He couldn't breathe, he could smell the smoke, the rot, the stench of old apples, he could hear them laughing, talking. Now he could see them, circling around him, and he knew he couldn't live through this again, he couldn't . . . His breath was coming in gasps, and he tried to run, but they had him blocked on all sides. . .

And then, he remembered. He wasn't alone anymore, he had friends, he had people who'd help, who would stop this from happening again. And his breathing eased just a bit, enough for him to call for them, just like she'd taught him to do - and they came. Those men, they still circled around him, laughing, now reaching out to grab at him, but behind them, he could see the others. The tall dark haired man with the stern eyes; the shorter, muscular man, also with dark hair; the younger one, dark hair and eyes, bronze skin - he held a knife in one hand. In front on them, the blond haired man with green eyes; a woman with red hair, her with a knife in each hand; and between them, between them a short man, blond hair, blue eyes, and that one, well, {"he looks a lot like me, when I look in the mirror,"} and that middle one, the one with the blue eyes motioned and called out, "come here! We'll keep you safe!"

And he did, he darted through those men surrounding him, straight to the man standing there, and the two watched, the man's arms tight around the boy's shoulders, as the others waded in, and one by one the ones who'd wanted to hurt him, they vanished, just disappeared with a noise like 'POP!' And his friends turned back to smile at him, and each of them touched his shoulder gently. Three walked off into the shadows, only the three in front remained; from them, a hug, a kiss on the top of his head, and a whispered "remember, we're always here," and he smiled back at them as they moved away into the shadows, and he held his head high, and walked out of that warehouse, and returned home.

He sighed deeply, rolled over, and eased down into a calm, peaceful sleep.

***

It had been a rough mission, an even rougher debriefing, but finally they had made it back to the Mansion in the late afternoon. He slipped away right after supper, such as it was, the ration shipment being 'misplaced' as too often happened, and the remains of the more perishable 'shares' from the Cottage being sent to the orphanage when they knew they'd be leaving on the extended mission.

Garrison had waited til the guys were sacked out in the dorm, Sergeant Major in that small anteroom, polishing his boots and humming, before he departed; the Sergeant Major knew he was leaving, knew where he was headed, well, he had to be able to find him if duty called, didn't he? He also figured it wasn't any of his business, just like it wasn't any of his business where the little pickpocket disappeared to; seems the Lieutenant knew, and that seemed sufficient. Any thoughts he might have had about their destinations maybe being the same small cottage, well, now, his thoughts were private weren't they, just as their business had a right to be private too.

She'd fed him a supplement to that oh-so-lacking supper, had poured a drink for each of them, the one for Craig waiting on the sideboard. Goniff was more than half asleep, but not wanting to head for the bedroom til their, their what? was complete. Family, circle, she didn't know what to call it, any more than they did, didn't really know that it needed to be defined with a title or name. It, whatever it was, just was. Now the sound of the kitchen door opening, footsteps, and two sets of smiling eyes greeted the weary green ones. Now the drinks were sipped, a bit of desultory conversation, then the overdue moving into the bedroom, toward that big comfortable bed. {"Tonight,"} she thought, {"it'll most likely be just resting, just sleeping, if you can put 'just' with those precious words."}

In the big wide bed, she listened carefully to his breathing, hearing it move back to his usual slow and easy rhythm, away from that frantic gasping she'd awoken to; she looked over to see concerned green eyes looking back at her, and they nodded at each other, sighed, and relaxed back down, knowing he was safe now, out of harms way, and went back to sleep, listening to those soft mutterings, smiling at the sound.

And while the evening had been just resting, just sleeping, well, the early morning held something different for them, again, something the word 'just' didn't quite fit either.

"Morning, Sergeant Major. Everything alright here?"

"Aye, sir, cept Goniff's not back yet. Should I . . ."

"No, don't bother, he's safe and sound. I'm sure he'll show up before long. If not, I know where to find him," Garrison said with a smile.


End file.
